


Through the Open Door

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Play, Begging, Blow Job, Fingerfucking, High School, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, dirtybadwrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-08
Updated: 2010-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through the open door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Open Door

**Author's Note:**

> [As requested](http://azephirin.dreamwidth.org/18612.html?thread=1033140#cmt1033140) by [](http://ninhursag.livejournal.com/profile)[**ninhursag**](http://ninhursag.livejournal.com/).

Sam's precalc book has been kicked to the floor, with pencils strewn in disarray around it. The bed is small for one person, especially after Sam's recent growth spurt, and nearly impossible for two; they're making it work, though, pressed together, David on top of Sam and their jeans undone. Sam slides his hands underneath David's T-shirt, touching bare skin and outlining the lean muscle. They're both lanky, built like runners and teenaged boys, but you can make anything fit together if you want to enough, and Sam does. Oh, Sam does.

David raises his arms and Sam strips the shirt off him; then they sit up for a moment so that David can do the same to him. When they fall back together, their hips meet urgently, rubbing and arching, both of them hard. Sam gets a hand between them and reaches inside David's boxers. David groans when Sam starts to stroke him slow and tight the way David likes, as David's precome slicks Sam's palm and David's skin.

"Take these off," Sam mutters, pushing at what's left of David's clothing, and David does, almost frantically, then sits on his knees to pull Sam's jeans and briefs off, too. Sam's as hard as he is, and he sees the greed in David's eyes as David leans down to lick at the head of Sam's cock.

"Don't stop," Sam moans when David looks up at him.

"Not a very nice way to ask." David smirks. They've only done this a few times now, over the past couple of weeks, but David seems to like it when Sam asks, even begs for what he wants David to do to him.

"Fuck, David, please. Suck me."

Someone without Sam's upbringing would not hear the front door close right at that moment.

Someone without Sam's upbringing would jump to his feet and close and lock the bedroom door.

Sam spreads his legs a little wider, inviting David, and David lowers his head to take Sam in his mouth. Sam moans again, head tossing on the pillow, thrusting up into the hot, wet perfection of David's lips and tongue—and David pins his hips, holding Sam firmly against the mattress as he works Sam's cock. Sam whimpers and tangles his fingers in David's hair, breathing out a helpless "Please."

The footsteps on the stairs are light, careful. Sam takes a hand from David's hair to play with his nipple, twist it between his fingertips, and the not-quite-pain is a perfect counterpoint to the exquisite pleasure engulfing his cock. David caresses Sam's balls, and Sam can feel the touch moving farther back. Sam fumbles on the bedside table and manages to find the bottle of lotion that he and Dean keep there by unspoken agreement. David pumps some into his hand, and Sam pulls a pillow under his hips.

They only got to fingering last time, when Sam was on his knees giving David head in the living room, and he let one hand wander to play with David's asshole, rubbing it with the same rhythm his mouth was using on David's cock. David had come almost immediately, shuddering and crying out, and then confessed to Sam, when he could speak again, that that was what he liked to do to himself. He'd done it to Sam, to demonstrate, and Sam had gone off like a rocket, thrusting up into David's mouth and fucking himself down onto his fingers.

David is hesitant, but Sam's not as tight as he might be, having jerked off this way several times over the past three days. One day he'd like to know what it feels like to be fucked, to have a cock in him and not just fingers, to feel someone—someone in particular—come inside him.

David starts with one finger, moving it slowly in and out, back and forth. "More," Sam tells him. He can use three of his own, wants to work up to four.

Sam looks over towards the doorway. It's winter, nearly dark out, and the hall light's not on, but he can see the glint of Dean's eyes through the partly open door. Sam licks his lips and says, "Please," as breathy and desperate as he can make it. Dean's hand comes up, tightens around the doorframe.

David sinks another finger into him.

Sam's cry is high and sharp, and he throws his head back, neck arching. But he makes himself open his eyes again, looking across the room at Dean, who's standing with such rigid stillness that it's almost as if he's forcing himself not to come into the room. "Harder," Sam gasps, and David does, and one of Dean's hands goes to the front of his jeans, cupping himself through the fabric. Sam wants him to undo the fly, take out his cock and let Sam watch him touch himself, but Dean doesn't—it's more like he's trying to press himself down, keep himself under control.

Dean's eyes are wide and hungry, almost angry, and that's when David pushes a third finger inside Sam. Sam's looking Dean in the eyes, gripping David's hair, rocking back and forth on his fingers, fucking his mouth, wishing David's mouth was Dean's, wishing David's fingers were Dean's cock, thinking about how his brother would spread Sam's legs and pin Sam's hands and do it gently but inexorably, so that Sam couldn't get away, so that he wouldn't want to. He would let Dean inside, and he'd come on Dean's cock, shaking and whimpering as Dean kissed him, and then he'd feel Dean come, slick and hot and intimate. They've shared so many rooms that he already knows what Dean sounds like—has jerked off listening to the almost-silent slide of Dean's hand on his own cock, to the catch of his breath and his bitten-off noises—but Sam wants to know what Dean looks like, wants to see his brother's face soften and contort in pleasure.

Sam can't keep his eyes open when orgasm hits, when he comes into the soft heat of David's mouth. He moans, and his lips want to form a name, but Sam manages to choke back everything after the first letter. He's caught up in it, body shuddering until it pulses through him and he collapses, sprawling immobile for a few moments afterwards, panting, almost incoherent.

When he opens his eyes again, Dean's gone.

Sam pulls David up and kisses him, licking his taste from David's tongue. He's afraid David might have come too, but he's still hard when Sam reaches down and strokes his cock; he gasps when Sam plays his fingers over the head.

Sam kisses David's eyebrow, sucks on his earlobe, and whispers, "Have you ever fucked anybody?"


End file.
